Training Session
by Tiriya
Summary: Rewrite. Squall, Seifer, and the infamous duel at the start of the game. R&R.


**_A/N_**_: I fixed this up a bit and posted it again – hopefully it's a little better than the last one. Review this, and I'll give ya a big hug! ^_^ Oh, and please, if anybody spots any more mistakes, tell me and I'll do my best to fix it up again. Any little pointers would be very much appreciated. Thanks!_

_Oh, and I guess I'd better make a disclaimer, else I'll be getting my ass sued all over the place. Okay then… Final Fantasy VIII and all characters within the game belong to Square, and not me._

_There you go, that's that cleared up. Now, on with the fic._

_~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~_

There's a storm brewing – you can tell by the way the clouds are formed. By the end of this, it's probably gonna be pissing with rain.

I'd better finish him off quickly.

I run my hand through my hair and tap my foot impatiently, one hand resting on Hyperion's handle, supporting my weight. He ought to be here soon. He'd _better_ be here soon – I've been waiting long enough. Not that I'm worried he won't show up at all. Why wouldn't he? He thinks it's a training session; I told him so myself.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

_"Leonhart."_

_He turns around, looks at me suspiciously. "Yeah?"_

_"What do you say we go for a little training session sometime? I want to see how badly you're doing with your gunblade."_

_He smirks. "Checking out the competition?"_

_"Something like that, yeah." I try to make it sound like a joke._

_A carefree, nonchalant shrug. "Sure, whatever."_

_"Good lad. Rinaul Beach, six o clock tomorrow morning?"_

_"Fine."_

_"See you there. Don't disappoint me now."_

_~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~_

I sigh. I've already been waiting for a full half an hour. What in the hell is taking him so long? 

Suddenly I hear footsteps coming up behind me. I pretend not to hear them, choosing instead to stare determinedly at the body of water over the rocks. The footsteps come to a halt.

"All right, I'm here," he says gruffly. "Let's just do this." Such a warm greeting. I'm touched.

"You're late, Leonhart," is all I say.

"Yeah, I know." He shifts. There's a short silence. "…This isn't really a training session, is it?" he asks finally.

I bring up the hand that is holding Hyperion so that the blade flashes before me. "Nope," I say calmly.

He sighs. "I didn't think so."

I glance back at him over my shoulder. "Then why'd you come?"

"Because." He shrugs. "I know I can beat you."

I smile and turn around so that I'm facing him completely. I look him over carefully. He's standing maybe two meters away from me, gunblade hanging loosely by his side. He looks just like he always does – cool, calm and collected; steely gray eyes narrowed slightly. "Confident," I say at last. "I like that – I don't want an opponent that's weak."

"Can we just get this over with?" he asks, placing a hand on his hip and looking away.

I shrug my eyebrows. "Sure. Whatever you want."

He looks back at me. "How do we determine the winner?" he asks carefully.

"The winner is the person who isn't lying dead on the ground by the end of it."

He nods. "Fine."

"You seem surprisingly calm," I remark.

Another shrug, a casual wave of his hand. "Whatever."

I allow myself another smile, accompanied by a slight shake of my head. This guy was unbelievable.

"All right then," I say at last. "Let's go. Show me what you got, Squall."

He looks calmly at me, and I look calmly back at him. Thunder rolls, lightning flashes. The moment seems to drag on for an eternity. I start to get unnerved, wonder whether I should make the first move. I wait for another second or two, just to give him a fair go, but when he doesn't take his chance, I do the Seifer Almasy thing and take it for him.

I dart forward and make for the gunblade in his hand. I catch him unawares, just what I was hoping for. I now have the gunblade in his own free hand. I meet his eyes, and just as he goes to grab it back, I toss it high into the air, so high in fact, that it almost disappears into the clouds. The distance of the shot impresses even myself. I never knew I had such a good arm.

He glares at me, and I can sense the anger seething behind the cool exterior. This is a good thing – he's bound to let it snap at some point. It might spice things up a little.

The gunblade lands back on the ground just as another flash of lightning illuminates the sky. The blade embeds itself in the earth, and without a moment's hesitation, he's in there, reaching for it, perhaps afraid that I'll get there first. Then in one swift movement he darts forward, point of the blade going for my stomach. I move out of the way just in time. I have to admit – he's good. With that simple move, he's shown me just how quick and agile he is. This is going to be interesting, whether he lets his temper fly or not.

I strike back, aiming for his chest. He moves quickly out of the way. I go for him again and he blocks me. Gunblades lock, as do our gazes. I'm the first to pull away, and the first to go in again. _He can't win_, I think as my gunblade crashes against his. _I won't let him_.

We clash over and over again, the sound of metal on metal ringing out over the still morning air. He's going easy on me; I can see it in the way he lunges forward and then hesitates at the last minute. He's afraid to hurt me. I'll soon knock that out of him. I smirk, pull my weapon back with one hand, and beckon to him with the other. It infuriates him. Perfect – just want I wanted.

He does some fancy shit with his weapon, twirling it around and such and then going for my abdomen. Again, I dodge it, but only just. I'm getting tired, and so is he.

I decide to finish it. I stop moving, stop dodging. He pauses as well, obviously to see what's caused the change in me. As he stands there, looking at me confusedly, I close my eyes, summon the power within me, and command it into a fireball. Then, with a sweep of my arm, it's in his face.

Well, we never said magic was against the rules, now, did we?

He falls to the ground, momentarily stunned. Then he starts to get up, obviously still recovering, and I see my chance. I bring my gunblade down on him, slashing in between his eyes. Blood splatters to the ground.

_Now that's gotta hurt_, I think with an inward smile.

His head is bowed, his eyes trained to the ground. He shakes his head, and several more droplets of blood fall and mix with the dirt and grit. Then he looks up, and, with a sort of horror mixed with satisfaction, I see that his entire face is awash with crimson. His eyes are burning with an intense fury, and his teeth are clenched as he tries to control his temper.

I smile.

That does it – now he's pissed.

_Come on, Leonhart – let it out…_

He lets it out.__

With a loud cry, he sharpens the point of his gunblade on the ground and, not surprisingly, brings it right back up into my face, leaving a gash on my forehead that mirrors his own. The pain is excruciating; I don't think I can stand it. I grit my teeth to stop myself from crying out, but I can't help but let a single moan escape from deep within my throat. Our eyes lock once again and with a silent understanding, we fall to the ground at the same time. It's only fair.

We lie in heavy silence for a while, not moving, not talking. The battle's over, and neither of us has won. It's a really shitty feeling, not having the thing finalized. But deep down, I think I know who would have won, had I not cast that fire magic. That's what put him at a disadvantage.

The rain that was only threatening to appear earlier now makes an appearance. A few light raindrops fall from the sky, and the water mixes with the blood on my face.

"Leonhart," I say presently, dabbing at the wound on my head with the sleeve of my trench coat. My arm comes away covered in blood.

"What?" he asks wearily, hand over his eyes.

The drizzle intensifies.

"If anybody asks, Leonhart, this was a training session."

~


End file.
